


Preseason

by CoffeeWithConsequences



Series: 82 Games [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anti-anxiety medication, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Falling In Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, New Relationship, Sex, Sexual Dysfunction, Stress Relief, taking care of jack zimmermann
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 10:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15265680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/pseuds/CoffeeWithConsequences
Summary: As Jack's first NHL season looms, he turns into Preseason Jack Zimmermann. Bitty figures out to help.This story takes place generally afterThe BreakawayandDonner six poucesand beforeThe Piano Has Been Drinking, Not Me, but isn't dependent on any of them and can be read as a stand alone.





	Preseason

**Author's Note:**

> My life continues to be a dumpster fire, so I am taking another break from Kent Parson and his angst and writing some nice, new relationship love for Jack and Bitty. Please enjoy!

Bitty sighed and tossed his phone on the bed. He should have known. He’d met preseason Jack Zimmermann before, and those situations were, compared to this, low-stress. He knew Jack was nervous, he was scared, and he was...Jack. It stood to reason, a week before the Falconers’ season opener and his debut game in the NHL, he’d be freaking out.

Stupid as it may have been, Bitty assumed it would be different now that they were together. Over the course of the summer, spent mostly long-distance, and in the weeks since, when he and Jack had been able to spend quite a bit of time together, they’d grown closer than ever. They still had the friendship they’d painstakingly built during Jack’s last year at Samwell, but they had this beautiful, fragile, magic new thing growing between them, too. Jack slowly told Bitty about some of the worst times of his life--the Q, his overdose, rehab--and Bitty told Jack his own stories. He thought they were in a place now where Jack would be able to talk to him about his preseason stress.

Instead, it had been a week of short, terse responses to texts, mostly skipped Skype calls, and a drawn, tense Jack. He hadn’t gone so far as to snipe the way he had during Bitty’s first year with SMH, but it was a close thing.

The worst part was that he couldn’t go to Shitty for Jack-handling advice, like he would have before they’d started dating. He’d either feel dishonest or end up spilling the beans. So he had to deal with this Jack on his own, and he truly had no idea how to do that.

Lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, Bitty mentally composed tweets.

 

_This boy is new to relationships, y’all--how do you help your partner when they’re hurting?_

Or

_How much slack do you give your BF when they’re taking out their stress on you?_

This was the problem, Bitty thought darkly, with entering into your first real relationship at the ripe old age of 20. You had no prior experience by which to navigate. Hating himself a little bit for it, he tried to imagine what Jack’s previous lovers might have done to help. He knew their names, but little else. Camilla seemed like a nice girl. Bitty’s mind paused on Kent Parson. He and Jack had been together during Jack’s previous most stressful hockey season, his last in the Q, so he likely had more experience with this side of Jack than anybody. For a single, insane moment, Bitty thought of sending Parse a Twitter message, trying to start a conversation. What would he say, though?

_Hey, I’m dating Jack Zimmermann now--any tips on how to help him during his preseason freak-out?_

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.

Still, maybe there was something there. Bitty was desperate. So, he spent the majority of the night e-stalking Kent Parson--read all of his tweets, looked at endless pictures of his ugly cat, and went over articles about him with a fine-toothed comb. At the end of his meticulous research, Bitty was firmly convinced that Kent Parson was a world-class dick. He still had no idea what to do about Jack.

Bitty continued to ponder the question (read: worry) for the next several days. He thought often of the surly, nasty Jack Zimmermann he met in his first weeks at Samwell. He didn’t want to see that Jack return, and he didn’t want Jack to be feeling so badly that he acted that way. Every day, though, he seemed to be getting closer to just that.

Finally, on Friday, Bitty made a decision. He and Jack hadn’t spoken since a brief conversation on Wednesday night, during which Jack said very little beyond that he was tired. Bitty’s intention was to stay at Samwell over the weekend--he had his first French exam on Monday and was already behind. Jack said that was fine, he’d be at the rink most of the weekend anyway preparing for their game on Monday. Clearly, though, Jack needed Bitty, in a way that far outranked any stupid French test. So he made an excuse to the team and got on a train.

Jack gave Bitty a key to his apartment over the summer. It was easiest, he explained shyly, since Bitty might want to come over while he was on roadies, or even just at the rink. Bitty wouldn’t admit it, but he treasured that key. He kept it on a Falconers key ring and took it out of his desk drawer and stared at it sometimes, reminding himself that this relationship was real, and it was serious. When he let himself in Friday evening, it thrilled him to finally be using it.

Bitty pressed Jack a bit over text to confirm that he’d be at the rink until 6, then was planning to go home and crash. That gave Bitty about an hour to put together dinner. He unpacked the canvas shopping bag he’d lugged on the train quickly and efficiently. He knew Jack’s kitchen so well already, it was simple to put together a protein-heavy quiche and a big salad. He played music through Jack’s little Bluetooth speaker (something Bitty was fairly sure was actually intended for him, since Jack didn’t seem to know how to use it) and danced as he worked.

At just after 6:30, Bitty heard a key in the door. Not wanting to startle Jack the minute he walked in, Bitty stayed in the kitchen. He was barefoot, wearing shorts that were probably on their last weekend, given the threatened change in the weather, and a Samwell Hockey t-shirt. He hoped his hair was OK.

“Is someone here?” Jack called from the entry.

“It’s me, sugar,” Bitty called back.

Jack’s head immediately popped around the door. He was hopping on one foot, taking his sneaker off the other. “Bits! I didn’t know you were coming!” There was a brief, brilliant moment for which he smiled, then the tense look Bitty had been seeing on Skype returned. “Why are you here?” He stopped hopping and pulled off his other shoe.

“Come kiss me first,” Bitty said, smiling. He didn’t feel as confident as he hoped he sounded.

Jack crossed the room slowly, looking almost suspicious, but when he got to Bitty, he did as directed, leaning down and kissing him. For a few long moments, the kiss lingered, sweet and soft.

“OK, why are you here?” Jack asked when he pulled away. He looked around the room. “Are you cooking? Is something wrong?” There was a defined worry line between his eyes.

Bitty reached up and smoothed the line away. “No, baby, nothing’s wrong.” He pulled Jack’s hand between both of his. “You’re just so worried, so stressed about the first game. I wanted to be here to help you this weekend.”

Again, Jack nearly smiled, but then the familiar worried look returned. “Bitty, that’s really nice of you, but I’m...I’m in hockey mode, you know? I’m not going to be able to hang out with you that much…”

Bitty interrupted. “I know that. That’s not why I’m here.” He gestured toward the oven, where the timer was counting down until the quiche was done. “I’m here to cook you a few good meals, cuddle you if you need that, listen to you if you need that, and try to make things a little bit easier. When you’re at practice or with the trainer, I’ll study--God knows I have enough to do.”

Jack still looked skeptical. “I don’t...I don’t want you to be mad, Bits. I know I haven’t been paying enough attention to you…”

Bitty interrupted again. It was rude, he knew, but it was also helpful, in these situations, to get Jack off his bad train of thought before he could get too far down the track. “This isn’t about you paying attention to me,” he said. “You’re right, you haven’t been, and if that happened forever, it would be a problem. But this is your first NHL preseason, Jack--it’s normal for you to be wrapped up in yourself right now. I’m not here to make things harder for you, I’m here to make them easier.” He’d practiced this speech in the bathroom mirror this morning, expecting exactly this discussion. It was going well. “If you honestly think it will make this weekend harder for me to be here, I’ll get the train back in the morning, and I won’t be upset. But if you are just trying to protect me from you being grouchy and distracted, well…” he grinned. “Jack Zimmermann, I have seen you grouchy and distracted before. I can take it.”

This time, when Jack smiled, it stayed on his face. “You’re amazing, bud,” he said softly, pulling Bitty back into his chest for another hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Bitty answered, smiling into Jack’s neck.

Jack was ravenous. Bitty ate one slice of the quiche, and Jack polished off the rest, complimenting Bitty’s cooking as always. “Good, eat up,” Bitty said. “I have plenty of stuff to make another one for you to eat after I’m gone. And other things, too. I’ll go to the Farmer’s Market tomorrow and see what I can find to get your fridge stocked up with.”

Jack shook his head, swallowing before he spoke. “I don’t deserve you. You know that, right?”

Bitty looked at him with soft eyes. “Jack, you are notoriously bad at knowing what you do and do not deserve, so I think it best you let me be the judge of that.” Without asking, he added more salad to Jack’s empty plate, which he dug into immediately. “Besides, when I need you, you’ll be there.”

Jack smiled again, full this time, as if he didn’t have a worry in the world. “You’re right. I will. I promise.”

There was an awkward moment later, after they’d brushed their teeth and climbed into Jack’s big bed. Bitty snuggled up to Jack immediately, pushing his head under Jack’s arm and pressing his face into Jack’s neck. He felt Jack’s body stiffen. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, pulling away enough that he’d be able to see Jack’s face, were the room not so dark.

“I...um…” Jack trailed off, his voice tight. “I know we haven’t seen each other in a couple of weeks, Bits, and I’m really sorry, but...I don’t think I can…”

Bitty laughed. “Honey, it’s fine. I expected that. You’ve got other things on your mind.” He was disappointed--that was absolutely the direction he’d been thinking. Honestly, it was difficult not to climb Jack like a tree the minute he’d walked in. But this was not something about which he should ever make demands.

Jack sighed. “It’s not fine,” he groused. “If I’d known you were going to be here, I could…”

“Could have what?” Bitty asked, curiosity overriding his good sense. “Psyched yourself up? I’m not a goal you have to score, or a game you have to win. Come on, Jack. It’s fine. I promise.”

Jack huffed a little noise, maybe of disbelief, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled Bitty closer, nosing into his hair. “I’d like to, you know,” he said. “But it would be...bad. I wouldn’t…”

“Sweetheart, we are done talking about this,” Bitty said, voice firm. “We can revisit the subject tomorrow, if you’d like, but tonight you need to rest.” He put his hands up, cupping Jack’s face, and kissed his lips softly. “I’m not here for sex. I’m not here for entertainment. I’m here to take care of you. Got it?”

“Got it,” Jack said. Bitty felt his smile against his lips. “Thank you again, bud.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Saturday was spent much as Bitty expected. Jack left for the rink before Bitty woke up, a scrawled note on the counter thanking him again and reminding him where the Farmer’s Market was located, as if he didn’t know. Bitty avoided his homework and instead spent most of the day cooking, filling not only Jack’s fridge, but much of his freezer, with protein-heavy dietician-approved meals. He baked, too--Jack might not allow himself more than a small slice, but that was still no reason not to have pie. And he worried. He’d have preferred to have been woken up before Jack left.

When Jack got home, his mood was clearly worse than it had been the previous evening. He barely said hello before he disappeared into the bathroom, showering for a long time. Bitty waited patiently, sitting in front of his laptop at the kitchen counter and pretending he was studying. When Jack came out, standing at the counter and drinking two glasses of water in quick succession, he was quiet.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bitty asked, voice gentle.

Jack scowled. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He was staring at the floor.

Bitty waited to see if Jack would say more. When he didn’t, Bitty rose and went to him, wrapping his arms about Jack’s waist. At first, Jack didn’t respond. Finally, he hugged Bitty back, but it felt half-hearted.

Bitty sighed and pulled away. “I’m here to help, darlin’,” he said, “but you’ve gotta let me in.”

Jack’s scowl intensified. “If I could figure out how to explain it, I would,” he said, irritably. “But you won’t understand. You have no idea what it’s like to be scared, all the time, of being a disappointment to everybody you love.”

Bitty thought, incongruently, of Kent Parson. Maybe there was a time where over-the-top niceness wasn’t what Jack needed at all. Bitty took a deep breath and a step back, then reached up to tilt Jack’s jaw up so he could see his face. “Jack Zimmermann,” he said sharply, “I am a gay boy from the rural south. I am the son of a football coach who cannot stand to be hit, and I am never going to be five-feet-seven-inches tall. I stopped figure skating at what should have been my peak, when seeing me on an Olympic podium was the only thing my mama ever admitted wanting. Do not tell me I don’t know what it’s like to be scared of disappointin’ people!” He glared right back into Jack’s face. “You are not the only person in the world who has ever been afraid.”

Bitty was nervous that he might have gone too far, but something around Jack’s eyes loosened, just a little. “Did you practice that speech in the shower, Bits?” He bit his lip, trying not to grin.

Bitty glared harder. “No! For your information, I just made that one up on the spot.” He let himself smile. “I don’t want to be hard on you, baby. You’re hard enough on yourself. But you gotta get out of your own head. It feels like nobody’s ever done this before, and it feels like this is the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but neither of those things are true.” He took a step back toward Jack, but stopped short of wrapping his arms around Jack’s waist again, waiting to see how Jack took it.

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” Jack sighed. “I really am trying, Bits.”

“I know you are, baby.” Bitty leaned up and kissed Jack quickly. “Let’s distract you for a while. How about a movie while we eat dinner? I’ll even watch one of those boring documentaries you like.”

“OK,” Jack said, looking at Bitty adoringly once again. “I’d like that.”

As Jack stripped out of his shorts and t-shirt to get ready for bed, Bitty averted his eyes. He suspected the sex situation was going to be the same as it had been the night before, and he didn’t want to make things any more difficult for himself. In truth, he was near vibrating out of his skin with want, his fingers itching to touch Jack, his cock half-hard every time Jack brushed against him, but it could wait. _You’re a 20 year old man. You have a healthy sex drive. You are not some sort of addict who can’t handle a few days off_ , he told himself sternly. He considered a pre-bed shower. He could take care of it himself, which wouldn’t be the same, but would take the edge off.

Just as Bitty was about to say something about showering the flour out of his hair, Jack came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Bitty’s waist. “I can tell you’re trying not to look at me,” Jack murmured into his neck. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Bitty stuttered.

“Bits,” Jack said. “Don’t lie. What’s this about?”

Bitty twisted his head around enough to see Jack’s confused face. Jack was wearing only his boxer briefs, his body pressed against Bitty’s, and Bitty tried to still the heat inside him, but couldn’t.

“Not about anything, baby,” Bitty said, trying to laugh it off. “I was just distracted. I have no problem lookin’ at you. I love lookin’ at you.”

Bitty’s body was an even worse liar than his mouth. He’d already dressed for bed, in a t-shirt and soft boxers. As Jack snuggled up behind him, the boxers didn’t hide his growing erection.

Jack chuckled. “Come here,” he said, grabbing Bitty’s hand and pulling him toward the bed. “We’ll talk about it like grown-ups, eh?”

Bitty frowned, but went where he was led. “I swear, Jack, it’s not a big deal,” he said, glaring at his cock and wishing it would just disappear. “I am not asking for…”

“I know you’re not asking,” Jack said softly. “You never ask.”

Bitty frowned. “Sure, I do…”

Jack smiled and shook his head. “Look, Bits, I appreciate you giving me space, and I appreciate you not pushing. But there is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to have sex. You’re not the problem here. I’m the problem.”

“Jack, you’re not a problem.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m 25 years old and I am so nervous about a hockey game that I have to take pills that make it so, when I’m nervous about a hockey game, I can’t get it up.” He raised an eyebrow. “Does that not sound like a problem to you?”

“Well...not a big problem?” Bitty said, trying to keep his voice light.

Jack reached out and took his hand. “There are a couple of things I want to make sure you know,” he said. “First, this isn’t about you. At all. This is about brain chemistry, and the side effects of drugs. You get that, right?”

Bitty nodded. Intellectually, he knew what Jack was saying was absolutely true. Emotionally, he was having some trouble with it, but he sure wasn’t going to tell Jack that.

“Secondly, I want you to understand that it’s not that I don’t want to,” Jack said. He looked like he was searching for the right words, so Bitty didn’t interrupt. “Like, right now? I’d want to touch you. I want to see you naked in my bed, and I want to get you off. I’m not too nervous, or too stressed, or any of that. I want you.”

“But…?” Bitty prompted.

“But I doubt I will get hard, and that will frustrate me if I even try,” Jack said. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t come, and that would frustrate me even more.” He sighed. “Besides that, I don’t even really want to? Like, I still want you, but I don’t really want...me?” He frowned, clearly not satisfied with the words he was able to find, but pressed on. “What I’d like, it if was OK with you, would be just to...get you off.”

Bitty frowned. “You mean, without you also…?”

Jack nodded. “I thought you might feel weird about that, you know, because of the whole caretaking thing that you do. But I wanted to ask anyway. Because I’d like that. And I hope you would, too.” He had that shy, hopeful look that hit Bitty in the solar plexus.

“Are you sure?” Bitty bit his lip. Jack’s comment about wanting to see him naked had been enough to make his dick jump, but the idea of getting off without reciprocating didn’t feel right. “I don’t want you to feel obligated, baby.”

“I don’t!” Jack moved forward and took Bitty’s hand. “Think about it this way. Do you like cooking for me, and seeing me enjoy eating what you cooked, even when you’re not hungry?”

“Of course, but that’s not the same.”

“It kinda is, though,” Jack persisted. “I mean, if I just didn’t want to, full-stop, that would be one thing. But I do. I just want it to be...for you.” He hit Bitty with that shy grin again. If Bitty didn’t know better, he’d think Jack was doing it on purpose. “Try it? Please?”

Slowly, Bitty nodded. “OK. If you’re sure.”

“I am so sure.” Jack grabbed the hem of Bitty’s t-shirt and pulled it over his head, then reached for the waistband of his boxers. “Cooperate,” he said, nudging Bitty’s hips up. “I want you naked.”

The hour that followed was beyond anything Bitty expected. He had a general idea that sometimes couples humored each other with quick hand jobs or something, in situations like these. He’d always found it a little bit distasteful, but that was before he saw Jack get so into it. Bitty let Jack manipulate his body, lying him out the way Jack wanted, completely naked against the cool sheets. Jack spent a long time just looking at him and touching him gently, talking softly about how beautiful he was, how good his skin felt. He said other things, too--things that would have been harder for him to say in the light of day. He told Bitty how grateful he was for the patience, the support, the kindness. It was perhaps twenty minutes before Jack paid any attention at all to Bitty’s cock, and when he did, he took a long time with it, teasing Bitty with his hand, his mouth, his hand again. Every time Bitty got close to coming, Jack stopped, returning to kissing his chest, whispering in his ear, licking at his throat, until the tide ebbed, and then starting again.

“Good God, Jack, what are you doing to me?” Bitty was half-whining, half-praying. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this!”

Jack laughed, blowing warm air against Bitty’s cheek and ear. “You’re doing great, Bits,” he said. “You look so beautiful like this, all flushed and needy.”

“I’m not needy,” Bitty tried to say, but it came out more a moan than a complaint.

“You are,” Jack said, delighted. “You take care of me all the time. Right now, let me take care of you.”

Bitty moaned again as Jack’s body moved back down the bed, ghosting breath over his abdomen, biting at his hip bones. “Please, Jack,” he said, “baby, please.”

“Mmmm…” Jack sighed into Bitty’s thigh. “Please what?”

“Please put your hand back. Put your mouth back. Let me come. Please!”

“OK.” Jack grinned up at him. Somewhere in the back of Bitty’s mind, he congratulated himself for taking the anxiety out of Jack’s face.

Jack used his hand, watching Bitty’s face as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back into the pillows, not trying to be quiet. “You’re gorgeous, bud,” he said, twisting his wrist and increasing the pressure. “Come for me. I want to see you.”

Bitty gasped as his orgasm crashed through him. He was barely aware of Jack cleaning him up afterward, coming down slowly. Jack repositioned them on the bed, Bitty’s back against his chest, his arms around Bitty. Bitty leaned against him, so pliant he felt liquid. “That was amazing,” he said. He opened one eye to look into Jack’s face. “Was it...what you wanted?”

Jack nodded with wide eyes. “Exactly what I wanted. More than that, even.” He ran his thumb idly down Bitty’s bare arm. “I like it, just focusing on your body, on your pleasure. Will you let me do it again?”

Bitty nodded, trying to curb his enthusiasm for the sake of propriety. “Sure. Not all the time, though.”

Jack chuckled. “I’m not offering to do it all the time.” He kissed the top of Bitty’s head. “I’ll calm down, Bits, once the season gets going. And if I don’t, I’ll go back to the doctor, and I’ll get different pills. This is temporary.”

Bitty didn’t like the darker tone Jack’s voice took by the end of the sentence. “OK, great,” he said. “But even if it weren’t, Jack? You know I’d still be right here, right? Sex is...sex is amazing. Sex is wonderful. But sex is extra. It’s frosting or sprinkles or something. It’s not why I’m here.”

Jack shook his head. “You continue to astound me, bud.” He hugged Bitty tightly.

They were quiet for a few minutes before Bitty spoke again. “Hey, Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“I think maybe I’ll take the morning train tomorrow instead of the evening.”

“Why?” Jack frowned down at him.

“Well, I really do need to deal with this French. But I think you’d also probably like some time to yourself before Monday, right? Watch tape and stuff?”

Jack shrugged. “Yeah. But you made this whole trip for me…”

Bitty cut him off. “I did. And I’m glad I did. But I think it might be better for both of us if I go back a few hours early.” He craned his neck up to kiss Jack quickly. “This isn’t a rejection, and I’m not mad. At all. I was just thinking that what might actually make things easier for you isn’t having me here, it’s having me leave you with a nice stock of food and a nice hug and some time to be alone.”

Jack looked down at Bitty with wide, amazed eyes. “You really do get it, don’t you?” His voice was soft and fond and surprised.

“Not always,” Bitty said, thinking of his desperate night spent Parse-stalking. That was a story he was never telling. “But I’m trying.”

Jack nodded. “Me too. Thank you.” He sighed. “You’re probably right about tomorrow. I love having you here, but I’ll be less anxious on my own, if I can get just sort of get into my routine.” He kissed Bitty’s head again. “You’ll still be here for the game though, right?”

“You know there is nothing that could make me miss it!” Bitty replied. “I am so proud of you. I’m gonna be the loudest one in the stadium.”

Jack fell asleep first, and Bitty watched him for a long time. It wasn’t perfect yet--they were still working it all out--but he was proud of them both.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come visit me on [Tumblr](https://coffeewithconsequences.tumblr.com/) or read the rest of my fic here at [Archive of Our Own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/works)!


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